A Song Of Madness
by charliekiller124
Summary: In which Elia Martell wasn't the only woman raped by the Lannister's and had a brother who sought vengeance on her behalf.


Enjoy, and leave a review please.

It was a poor crop they had this season. Walking along the row of weak, broken plants of barley, he lamented that he this would be another difficult year.

' _Likely to be plenty of those in this lifetime.'_ He thought to himself. It was a fair judgement though. Considering he had been born in the 21st century his previous life, being raised in a medieval feudal society was bound to be poor by comparison.

He'd been born Alex Walsh before, an Irish farmer located in County Louth, Ireland. It had been a life of demanding physical work, but he'd been doing it so long it was no longer as back breaking. He actually enjoyed it, until one of his horses threw a fit and kicked him with its hind legs right in the chest. He died instantly and was reborn in this new world. And what a world it was. He watched the season eight of Game of Thrones a long while ago, but he still knew enough about it to recognize some terms that weren't native to his own world. Asking his sister in this life also revealed his location. He was in a city called Lannisport, in the Westerlands. It was ruled by the Lannister of Casterly Rock which was located nearby. Her answer had led to a long thoughtful silence on his part as he contemplated what she said. He actually rather liked the Lannisters from the show. Cersei and Joffrey were crazy, but Tyrion was amusing, and Jaime's character development in the show actually made him his favorite character. Still, to realize that he was in a world with them was rather strange, and terrifying. These people could literally order him tortured for all his life and there was nothing he could do about it. He consoled himself by the knowledge that he was nothing more than a peasant beneath their notice and that thought was reassurance enough.

Overall, he wasn't too upset by his life here. He despised his father, a drunken fool that used to beat him and still belittled and insulted him at every opportunity. His sister, though, once she became older, completely stopped all their fathers attempts at physical violence. For that he loved her father had a queer affection for her as well. His sister said it was due to her appearance, how she looked like their deceased mother, who died giving birth to him. His father apparently loved her dearly, and when she died, he took his anger out on the son he thought killed his beloved wife. He actually felt pity for the man, but he still beat his child and that was enough to earn his enmity. Still, ever since his sister's actions, the man reserved his attention to purely verbal abuse now. His beautiful sister protested as always, but his father ignored her.

' _He must've thought insulting a child to be less damaging that physically assaulting them. Truly, my father is a cunt.'_ The thought made him smile, as he made his way back home through the rows of barley.

Looking at his new home made him feel rather despondent. Even in comparison to the homes of other peasants in this city, his was pathetic. It was short, squat and shaped like a square. The roof was thatched and the walls made of wood. There was only a single window to let light in, and a single door for entrance. Pushing the door open allowed him to see the single room the whole house was made of. A cheap hearth laid in the middle of the room. A table for eating to its right. Further past, along the walls, were three beds. Two were spaced only a few feet apart, but the other was as far away as possible, fifteen feet, as commanded so by his father. His sister was at the hearth, cooking some stew for evening meal, peering into it intently. She looked up when he entered though, and flashed him a smile pure as the sun.

His sister was four and ten, a pretty thing, notwithstanding this world's poor code for hygiene. A softly rounded face with black hair falling to just past her shoulder blades, and her eyes were a pretty, pale blue color. She was slender in body shape, and short. At near nine years old, he was nearly as tall as her, but he was also large for his age. If he had to guess she was maybe around five feet tall, and he a few inches shorter.

He had similar coloring to her. Black hair and blue eyes, but his were brighter, deeper, and more vivid. Oddly enough, there were no facial features shared between himself and his sister or father. Still, he could tell just from looking at his face in a stream, he would likely be

attractive as an adult.

He was broken from his musing when he realized she was speaking to him.

"—ooking well is it?" She was staring at him, concern naked on her face.

It took him a few moments to understand what she was likely referring to and another few to respond.

"The crop? Aye, we'll have a poor yield this rotation." They would likely go hungry again. Well, he would, his father would make sure he himself and his daughter got all the food available. His son would be left to starve. He likely would've died by now if she didn't sneak him portions of her food, meagre as they usually were. He wouldn't be surprised whether she purposely starved herself just so that he could have something to eat. The thought actually made him morose and angry all at once.

She must have noticed his mood shift because she immediately commented on it.

"We'll be fine. We always made do before" she reassured. "If you like, I can fetch some of those fruits you like. The little blue ones?"

She was a sweetheart, truly. "Thank you Tysha, that would be wonderful."

This life would never be as comfortable as his old one but at least he had someone he loved in it.


End file.
